“Thank you very much,” said Carson, and quickly removed himself from the dangerous area. The first thing he did was to dash to his office and telephone the necessary instructions in all directions. But there was a rattling in the corridor and Prokop burst into the room, fully charged with bombs.
“Listen,” said Prokop, white with anger. “Who gave orders that I should not be allowed into the park? If that order isn’t withdrawn immediately—”
“Just keep a little farther off, yes?” cried Carson, holding on to his desk. “What do I care about the park? Go—”
“Wait,” Prokop interrupted him and compelled himself to explain patiently: “Let us take it that there are occasions when … when a person is not absolutely indifferent as to what happens,” he said quickly. “You understand me?” Rattling and clattering he crossed over to the calendar on the wall. “Tuesday, today is Tuesday! And here, here I have—” he searched feverishly in his pockets and finally brought to light a porcelain soap box carefully tied up with a piece of string. “So far four ounces. You know what it is?”
“Krakatit? You’re bringing it to us?” said Mr. Carson, his face lit up with a sudden hope. “But then, of course—”
“Nothing of the sort,” grinned Prokop and put the box back in his pocket. “But if you irritate me, then … then I shall strew it about where I want to, see?”
“See?” repeated Carson mechanically, completely crestfallen.
“Well, just see that that lad is removed from the entrance. I want to go into the park.”
Mr. Carson cast a rapid glance over Prokop and then spat on the floor. “Bah!” he said with feeling, “I’ve arranged this badly!”
“You have,” agreed Prokop. “But it didn’t occur to me before that I had this card in my suit. Well?”
Carson shrugged his shoulders. “For the present, God! this is no small matter! I am extremely glad that I’m able to assist you. Honestly, extremely glad. And you? Will you give us six ounces?”
“I won’t. I shall destroy it myself but … to begin with I want to see whether our old treaty still holds. Free movement, and all the rest, eh? You remember?”
“The old agreement,” roared Mr. Carson. “The devil take the old agreement. At that time you weren’t—you hadn’t yet relations with—”
Prokop sprang towards him, rattling loudly. “What did you say? What hadn’t I?”
“Nothing, nothing,” Mr. Carson hastened to say, blinking his eyes quickly. “I don’t know. Your private affairs are nothing to do with me. If you want to walk about the park that’s your affair, eh? Only for God’s sake go and—”
“Listen,” said Prokop suspiciously, “No cutting off the current to my laboratory. Because—”
“Good, good,” Mr. Carson assured him. “The status quo, eh? Good luck.—Ugh! a cursed fellow,” he added irritatedly when at last Prokop had left the room.
Still rattling, Prokop made his way to the park, as heavy and solid as a howitzer. In front of the castle was standing a collection of gentlemen, but no sooner had they caught sight of him in the distance than they retired in some confusion, evidently having been informed of this highly charged and furious individual; their backs expressed the highest degree of indignation that such a thing should be allowed. Then Prokop came upon Mr. Krafft walking with Egon and giving him peripatetic instruction. As soon as he saw Prokop, he left Egon and ran across to him. “Will you shake hands with me?” he asked, and grew red at his own heroism. “I shall certainly be dismissed for this,” he said proudly. Prokop learnt from Krafft that the report had spread through the castle like lightning that he, Prokop, was an anarchist, and that the heir to the throne was expected that very evening. … That they proposed to telegraph to His Excellence to postpone his arrival, and were holding a big family council about it.
Prokop approached the castle. Two flunkeys in the passage flew out of his path and pressed themselves against the wall, allowing this charged, clanging assailant to pass without a word. The family council was being held in the large hall. Oncle Rohn was anxiously walking up and down, the elder members were tremendously excited about the perversity of anarchists, the fat cousin was silent, and some other gentlemen were warmly advocating that soldiers should be sent against this wild person: he would either have to give himself up or be shot. At that moment the doors opened and Prokop crashed into the room. His eyes sought the Princess. She was not there, but all the rest of the company stood up rigid with terror, awaiting the worst. Prokop addressed Rohn in a hoarse voice: “I’ve only come to tell you that nothing will happen to the royal heir. Now you know.” He nodded sharply and walked out of the room as solid as a statue.
XXXVIII
The passage was empty. He crept along as quietly as he was able to the Princess’s apartments and waited in front of the door, motionless as the knight in armour downstairs in the vestibule. A chambermaid came out, screamed at the sight of the scarecrow and hastily retired. A moment afterwards she opened the door again and, scared out of her life, and careful to keep out of his way, silently motioned him in, after which she again disappeared. The Princess came forward to meet him. She was wearing a long cloak and had evidently only just got out of bed. The hair over her forehead was tangled and damp as if she had just removed a cold compress. She was extremely pale and not looking attractive. She put her arms round his neck and put forward a pair of lips which were feverishly dry. “You are good,” she whispered, half swooning. “I’ve got the most frightful headache! I hear that your pockets are full of bombs! I’m not frightened of you. Go away now, I’m looking ugly. I’ll
